En Route To Ruin.

I'm zipping along the tracks on the 8:45 out to Fitchburg. Jim is picking me up in Lincoln, after which we'll spend another in a long line of evenings getting silly at the Red House. Saturday, we're all headed down to Newport for Harko's bachelor party. Golf in the afternoon, and Foxwoods in the evening. Gambling and golf are two things at which I most certainly do not excel, and I fully expect to return to Boston Sunday night with a sore back, a light wallet and a stab wound. And a new stripper girlfriend who is extremely mad at her father for something.

Jeeps the train's speaker is friggin' loud. Maybe I shouldn't have sat right underneath it. Must be great for the hearing impaired, though. And perhaps even better at actually making healthy people hearing impaired. I have noticed many such trade-offs during my strange life so far. Like that one about tits and bulls.

You know what this laptop needs? A video game. I need to find a decent distraction for these long periods of internetless travel. Maybe a Tetris clone or one of those Nintendo emulators where you can play old cartridge ROMs on your PC. Yep - me, the open road and Rush N' Attack. A winning combination if ever one existed.. Unless of course I ever plan on sleeping with a woman again.

Friday's Quizzlet: Kryptonite Beehives.

Appetizer: Name 3 people whom you admire for their intelligence.
The Hanson brothers. Mmmmmbop? Try evil geniuses... bop. Notice how you never see the three of them and Al Zarqawi in the same room? I rest my case. And I like those Trivial Pursuit guys, too.

Soup: What's the last food you tried that you really didn't care for.
Tombeno made me try a bite of this ridiculously huge lobster when we were in Montreal. I wanted to be a good sport (he was so excited). I wanted to be open-minded and adventurous. But I ended up retching and gagging as soon as my teeth sank into the minging, fishy mess. What is it about seafood that people love so much? Please explain this to me. If I were frigging shipwrecked, I'd still be wandering around the island looking for a burger or chicken fingers off the children's menu.

Salad: If you could rename your street, what would it to be called?
Pyeton Place. With less beehives. Okay, you got me. More beehives.

Main Course: When was the last time you were genuinely surprised?
At my inability to write anything funny today. IPA is my kryptonite, apparently.

Dessert: Share a household tip.
Mold always grows on the lower windowsills of my building in the North End. Said sills also happen to be my bedroom. Now... whether this is due to the proximity to street level, or my Dahmeresque disposal methods, is beside the point. Regardless, Clorox bleach kills mold dead.

The Top 3 Of The First 48.

Perhaps you'd like to listen to me blather on about A&E's The First 48 a little more? Fantastic then. As I've already mentioned, it's basically CSI in the real world - cameras follow around seasoned homicide detectives as they bag dead guys literally, and then bag bad guys figuratively. I can't get enough of it, and as I devour episode after episode On Demand as I try and get to sleep each night, I've slowly become sort of an authority on murder best practices. I'm going to condense a few time saving tips I've collected should you be contemplating the premeditated slaughter of another human being. Whatever I can do to help.

1. Try and stick to the prostitutes. The majority of the unsolved murders seem to be unfortunate streetwalkers whose families just assume they've been croaked anyway. "You found her dead in a ditch? That's too bad, because her father and I always dreamed she'd end up decapitated and stuffed in a footlocker."

2. Burn that shit. I mean seriously. When these cops find a corpse that's been torched, they don't know where to begin. No fingerprints, no DNA no driver's license, no dice.

3. If you have an accomplice, be sure to kill them too. Maybe not right away, but do your best to get around to it. They'll get arrested for something else and no matter how insignificant the charge (think jaywalking) they'll flip on you for the previous murder. Like a flapjack.

I could continue, but I don't want to be perceived someone who is sick, deranged and potentially dangerous. I am only trying to help those who truly are - get a leg up. Even if that leg used to be attached to a sex worker.

Wednesday Wadio: 99 Problems / Scarlet Begonias.

"Bastard pop is a musical genre which, in its purest form, consists of the combination (usually by digital means) of the music from one song with the acapella from another. Typically, the music and vocals belong to completely different genres. At their best, bastard pop songs strive for musical epiphanies that add up to considerably more than the sum of their parts."

I've heard several of these so called Jay-Z "mashups" - Jigga meets The Beatles, J-Hova meets Linkin Park, etc. - but the best so far has been Zigga Jizzy Ho-Ho coming face to face with the Grateful Dead in the 13 song album "Jay-Z's Dead". The potential for patchouli and bling jokes here is so tremendous that I'm left speechless, but have a listen on Radio Pye and see if you're struck with the sudden urge to bust a cap whilst playing hackey sack.

The meld of Scarlet Begonias and 99 Problems is my favorite tune, but other notables include Dirt Off Your Shoulders/Friend Of The Devil and December 4th/Dark Star. I'm not a huge Jigga fan and I'm only beginning to dip my toe in the Dead after years of violent resistance, but I think these conglomerations are extremely cool and I can't wait to see what they come up with next as more and more underground DJs get into the 'mix'. Hah, you see what I did there?

Have a look here for more examples - including KRS One vs. S Club 7, Jet vs. Christina Aquilera and Eminem vs. a slew of popular T.V. themes. Meanwhile, I'll be here in my apartment making a 3-foot Hennessy bong.

Sometimes, I Wish I Was Ted Kaczynski.

You know what I'm talking about. Living in a desolate cabin in the woods sans electricity or running water. Screaming at chirpy squirrels whilst dropping grumpys in a rusty bucket. Shooting rock salt out of a World War I era shotgun at anyone who gets within 25 feet of my humming hovel. Peace, quiet and exceptional filth.

"It was this lifestyle and the actual cabin that his attorneys would use to try to call his sanity into question during his trial. It was a defense strategy that Kaczynski said naturally greatly offended him."

Offend away - because while I fully realize I have been truly blessed with a great many friends, this summer is running me ragged. And it's only going to get more hectical. Weddings, bachelor parties, trips up North... pretty soon I'll be living in the aforementioned cabin because I've spent all my money on nickel-plated cocktail blenders, hotel rooms and plane tickets - and not because I decided to "drop-out" of proper society or corrode conformity. Either way, I'd best get used to the idea.

Monday's Quotelet: Don't Hate The Diver, Hate The Board.

Remember, Kids - Always wait at least 30 minutes after eating before attempting the 'Triple Lindy'.

What Is The Deal With Chunky's?

Has anyone been to this new place Chunky's? I guess the two-word elevator pitch would be "Indoor Drive-In". There's one in Pelham and one in Haverill. I'm seriously considering getting a dog team, a compass and a flare gun together to see if I can go find one of these joints. It's like Chuck E. Cheese with a DUI.

Well what we do here at Chunky's is pretty amazing. First, we seat you at a table in one of our spacious cinemas. Depending on the cinema your movie is playing in, our tables are designed to accommodate 2 to 8 people. Your leather chair is the driver or passenger seat from a Limousine and will have one armrest, recline, and is on wheels. Your waiter or waitress will take your order so you don't have to miss any of the good parts! Our menu selections currently include beer & wine, soft drinks, and a variety of pub-style food selections. Most theaters will open at least an hour before the movie starts. You may also order throughout the movie.

Is it somehow intrinsically wrong that I really want to go see Wedding Crashers at Chunky's? This seems like a great idea that would be very popular in theory - so why does one need a sherpa, a Mohican scout and a divining rod in order to get out there?

Friday's Quizzlet: The Prayers, The Vitamins, The Vinegar.

Appetizer: If you could make an even trade for any car, what would you drive?
I gave my car to charity a few years ago. I never used it, and it was dilapidating rapidly. Wow, that was fun to say - rapidly dilapidating. I live about as downtown in Boston as you can get and can walk to work. But a new car is definitely on my horizon. If I traded in what I have now (nothing) for the equivalent, I'd obviously end up with a '72 Gremlin or a uni-rickshaw.

Soup: Take your phone number and add each number - what's the total?
Let's see here. The total is... carry the one... the total is a total waste of time. Which is perfectly at home here on Pye in the Face, but this is not your best work, Quizzlet. For shame.

Salad: When were you last outside, and what were you doing?
Two hours ago I was walking to work across Boston common in a black, long-sleeved button down and jeans. It's casual Friday, afterall. Unfortunately, it's also mid-July and strolling through Beantown is like being on the surface of Mars in a fur-lined snowsuit. So I'll be hitting the gym for a shower in the not too distant future. It's quite Presidential to walk into your office and then spend the next 30 minutes sweating all over interns, though.

Main Course: What's your favorite restaurant, and what do you usually order?
I have a bunch, and I've already mentioned Greek Food below, so I'm gonna go off on a tangent and talk about Gagsters. I drove over to the American side of Niagara Falls to hit this place about 7 years ago, and it's been on my mind fricking daily ever since. Huge, delicious square pizzas that can feed 6 people, tasty towers of Buffalo wing baskets with the best sauce I have ever tasted (so you know it's vinegary). If you're ever in the neighborhood (East Market Street) get your fat ass in there and make it a little bit fatter.

Dessert: Name 3 things in which you occasionally indulge.
Greek food is God. I will snarf down Saganaki and Dolmadakia like a blistered, twitching crack whore. I also have a weakness for NHL 2K5 and Hogan Knows Best at the moment. And here you thought I was going to say 'crack' or something. "Say your prayers, eat your feta and stay out of the meth labs, brother!"

CSI: Sunnyvale Trailer Park.

Modern fingerprint technology, ultra-violet light and DNA evidence assist in the capture and conviction of a decent percentage of today's criminals. But all of these practices would be nothing without old-fashioned police legwork and intuition. Take little Patty Trimble, for example. He had Ohio's finest running in circles whilst in pursuit of him for the inhalation of harmful intoxicants. Through a combination of a full neighborhood canvass, an anonymous tip and that frigging thing they do with the superglue on the car windows - they eventually got their man.


Listen - I'm no Lex Luthor. But Patty, if you don't want to get arrested for huffing spraypaint - maybe don't show up three times in the same day to buy a can at the local Dollar Store store blathering incomprehensibly and looking like the lovechild of Craig T. Nelson and Golddust next time. I'm just sayin'.

Reigning Quotelet Champ: Give 'Er, Keo.

Reaction to the Quotelets was fast and fierce when I started them a few months back. Recently though, the participation has petered out and I can't help but think it's because I'd never conceeded defeat. I am happy to announce that I've finally been unsurped, and I'm hoping that fact will breathe some life back into these little interactive literary bastards.

Way to go Keo - although only a handfull of us will get the joke, and I am not going to explain it to the rest of you for fear of being convicted of a hate crime, it was fricking hilarious and I'm officially giving you the conch. Your name has been added to the new current champ listing on the left, and I hope you stay there for many weeks. Send me a photo and I'll add it too. And to the rest of you - this can be a lot of fun, so let's keep 'er going. Bragging rights get me out of bed in the morning.

Wednesday Wadio: Okkervil River's "For Real".

I have been listening to these guys incessantly for 2 days now after a friend suggested I check the scene. "For Real" off Okkervil River's 4th album, Black Sheep Boy, starts out quiet and measured, turns into a screaming spittle-fest fairly quickly and then gets all kinds of Neil Young on your ass during the denoument. Their other album I have heard, Don't Fall In Love With Everyone You See, had me appreciating the country-esque more than I ever remember having prior, and I love the move they seem to have made into less Oakie rockingness. Texas by way of New Hampshire.

I've added the song to Radio Pye, and it's the first tune that will play when you hit the zap button - until next Wednesday, that is. If you like what you hear, visit their website - and check back in a week for another widiculous Wadio Wednesday. Since you can only listen to, and not download, these songs, I hope to avoid jail time at least temporarily. Enjoy the audio while you can.

Farewell To The Inspiration For Twin Beds.

Hardly a sudden passing at 91 years of age, but I'd still like to tip my hat to Geraldine Fitzgerald who passed away only this morning. You'll remember her as the Grandmother who faked her own death and left son-in-law Rodney Dangerfield 40 million if he could sober up inside of a year in one of my top 5 favorite comedies, Easy Money. If you have never seen this flick, we now live in an age where 'Tivo' is a verb, so make some time and watch it.

Of course, while a part of my cherished canon, Mrs. Monahan is hardly the role for which she'll be remembered. Her appearences in Wuthering Heights, Dark Victory and an Orson Welles production make Easy Money look like... well, Easy Money. But she had a great sense of the comedic (she also played Dudley Moore's Grandmother in Arthur,) and I wanted to wish her a safe trip down the pearly pike.

Monday's Quotelet: Blow-Hole Hearted.

"Sushi still sounding like a good idea, biatch? Swim your skinny little ass in here and get some! Beluga, mothaf*cka!"

This Is Radio Pye.

Few things are more embarassing in life, that don't involve black latex body suits, than navigating to a crappy site - either carelessly or because you were misled - and then having a loud midi version of 'Wind Beneath My Wings' start playing in the middle of your crowded office. So for this reason I have stayed away from ever lacing any of my web pages with audio. But I've rethought my position somewhat after discovering RadioBlogClub. Streisand, however, can still suck a big tide prince or whatever.

Since the radio doesn't start playing unless you turn it on, I feel much better about exposing you to my utterly illogical taste in music. If you don't want to soak up some of my favorite all-time-tunes don't switch the gaudy frigging thing on in the first place. However, if you're curious about any of the music I talk about here on Pye In The Face, a free sample is just a click away in the left hand column. With no further ado - I give you Radio Pye.

The songs load up quick, and the quality is great. I wish the little bugger fit the column better, and I have yet to painstakingly try to match the colors to the rest of my template, but it works like a charm and I've uploaded about 20 songs so far which you can turn on and cycle through by hitting the "Zap" button in the upper-right hand corner. I've talked about Stompin' Tom, The Doves, The Gorillaz, The Pixies, etc. and they're all broadcasting live here 24 hours a day. I'm going to introduce a feature where I add a special song to the playlist every week and then introduce it into the lineup. And, whenever I mention a song, a speech, a comedy clip, etc. in a blog article - I'll add it to Radio Pye so everyone can follow along. And also don't think for a moment that I harbor any confusion over whether or not I'm the only person who gives a shit.

This radio plug-in may be gone tomorrow depending on the reaction (and more importantly its strain on my bandwidth) but you never know. It also might become a popular staple. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think/how much you want for those pictures of me in the bottom half of the catwoman costume.

Au Revior, Sweet Montreal.

What a silly, slovenly adventure we had. I am in desperate need of sleep, but I wanted to get the carefully-edited gallery of multiple omissions up before I signed off - as I know there are many people who couldn't be there who are more than a little curious. I will let the pictures speak/slur for themselves, and add some descriptions over the next week.


I will say this however - there were no assaults, deaths, arrests or witnesses to speak of. Doug had a great time, and all of his groomsy-bachelor minions did too. I could live in Montreal. I'm not kidding... I could get in a UHaul and move up there tomorrow. If I had one single solitary red cent left for the rental fee. And to think - I still have to get to Vancouver for the wedding. Anybody wanna buy a cat?

French Canadian Debauchletness.

To say we're having fun up here in Montreal would be a gross understatement. And it's definitely been gross. I'll go into carefully-proofread detail upon my return. Bachelor parties are supposed to celebrate an impending wedding, not keep it from ever happening in the first place.


And if you're in need of a severe belly-laugh (you've been warned,) I've got just the thing. Ladies and gents, please enjoy this new trailer for The Wedding Crashers I created with our old pals Jason and Doug edited in. This is possibly the most amazing marketing ploy I have ever seen. Now, back to the debauchletness.

Officially Annual: 365 Days Of Dave.

I'm not going to be around a computer, or even resonably coherent enough, to mark the imminent and incredibly unlikely one-year anniversary this Saturday of that strange collection of vowels and consonants that is Pye In The Face. I started this site to learn about blogging as a marketing tool, and simply fell in love with the medium. It's probably just thinly-veiled narcissism, but I've enjoyed entertaining my friends, old and new, for the past 365 days more than you can imagine. I've met many people, sparked a wealth of petty debate and spread around a font's worth of useless knowledge that has hopefully made each and every one of you smile somewhere along the way.

In the past 12 months, 25,750 unique visitors have read my 436 ridiculous articles 78,932 times. I've been called an asshole, a pervert, a neo-con and a 'beautiful man' - albeit only 3 times in the same sentence. My only running theme is attempted humor, which makes the site a little hard to palate for the masses - but to be honest that's the way I'd like to keep it. I can think of few things more appropriate than to now recap a few of my favorite moments that you may have missed the first time around. And the award goes to:

- Best unsupervised fight in the comment section.
- Most overtly nostalgic.
- Weakest attempt at keeping the blog apolitical.
- Best appearance on Comedy Central.
- Most meanspirited celebrity rip.
- Worst blog entry ever.
- Best Tall Tale.
- Best Quizzlet & Quotelet.
- Worst attempt at one-upping me.
- Best attempt at one-upping me.
- Best comment by a famous comedian.
- Most incoming links from other sites.
- My favorite Boston-related article.

I'll leave it at that. For those of you who visit the site daily, it's been a real pleasure. I'd like to invite you all to share your disgust, praise, favorite articles, etc. in the comments below - especially if you're one of my loyal readers who never utters a peep. I know from my server logs that there are about 50 of you - who are you people, and what am I doing right?

Oh, and while we're all here - this is the little belch that started it all.

Montreal Smoked Meat/Dave.

Yep - I'm smoked. Headed to a bachelor party in Montreal early tomorrow morning with one of the craziest groups of guys I've crossed paths with since the definitive glory days of the Brampton Posse. Nate, Lance, Tombeno and I are all staying in an Executive Suite at the Godin, which is about as posh as it gets in Quebec. It's also a little bit like putting a silk hat on a pig. I'll be sure to get some photos of the room prior to there being an enormous streak of pink human honk across one of the walls.

If this is any indication, this weekend will border on the debaucherous. The emails that have been circulating between the LA crew and the Concord crew have been a network-administrator-with-a-grudge's dream come true. We haven't even left yet and I've already spent a small fortune. But I think that through a combination of pacing, penicillin and the buddy system - the four of us should get home in one piece. Or at least with all of the pieces in the same car.

Any photos that don't include either the groom or myself tarred and feathered whilst being spanked with a trout by a midget that looks uncannily like Anna Nicole Smith will be posted in the gallery sometime next week. Until then, you'll just have to open a window, stay completely silent and listen keenly for my muffled screams.

Three Periods Of Peace. But Who Still Gives A Puck?

I've never opened Pye In The Face up to a guest writer before, but as the launch of my new joint-venture looms ever-imminent I thought I'd give you all a taste of what's in store over at GoonBlog.com which launches July 31st. Detroit Velvet Smooth - take it away:

It appears that after a 300 day odyssey, the NHL and NHLPA have finally come to an agreement. The deal they are forging still needs to be approved, but they would be fools to turn this one down as any subsequent arrangement will not be as lucrative. As far as the players are concerned, this isn’t the deal they should have taken. No, the multi-millionaire club should have taken the deal that almost saved the season 5 months ago after Bettman's initial cancellation. Surely you remember that most-magical 'Glimmer-of-Hope' weekend. I spent it constantly looking for hockey-related updates anywhere I could find them. And, of course, porn.



For the owners, this deal is exactly what they've been looking for - a salary cap tied to revenue, different arbitration rules and a chance to buy out crappy contracts that messed up the prior CBA. Mr. Holik - pack your bags. This summer will be like the Wild, Wild west on ice and without spurs. There are only 228 players currently under contract in the whole league. That means whatever your favorite team looked like before, it is probably going to end up radically different. The Crosby draft will be July 30th, so any team could wind up with the phenom, for example. The larger question is: does anyone still care? All I hear is about is the NHL is dead, and no one will be back. I call "shenanigans".

The NHL will relaunch itself this summer. There will be new rules (a proposed ejection for anyone instigating a fight in the last 5 minutes of a game being among them,) new logos, a ton of new marketing and some groveling fan invites to bring us - the long suffering NHL fan - back to the rink. If I may go all Arnie on you for a second - I’ll be back. I will be the first to sign up for the Center Ice Package and the first in line for Opening Night tickets. So, come along for the ride with me. Check in at Goonblog starting July 31st for the latest enforcer happenings, and some general mucking it up in the corners. The NHL! It’s a whole new game.

Thanks for the contribution, Chris. Stay tuned, hockey fans - we drop the gloves July 31st.

Can't We All Just Eat Poutine?

Here's a very timely photo I just got from my old friend Heather. I went to CCHS with her here in MA, but she has Canadian relatives with an insane island-bound cottage North of Sudbury Ontario you can only get to by boat. You can't get much further North and probably shouldn't unless you're mining nickel. I figured I'd share, as it's a nice, idealistic reflection on how I wish relations between the USA and Canada actually stood.














The Maple Leaf and Old Glory, proudly overlooking a sunset... and some sort of wounded woodland birdlet. Yanks and Canucks living together - mass hysteria. I wish the Liberal Moonbat segment of Canada, and the Right Wing Conservative faction of the USA, could be genetically melded into some semblance of a resonable and measured human being. If we need extra body parts for the effort, we'll just use some Quebecers. And we also have a lot of very mouthy NHL players who could be put to better use right now. I dub thee effort "Hands Across The Great Lakes" and will remain steadfast in my resolve to not hold my breath for a second until things change.

Monday's Quotelet: Quite A B.I.G. Mistake.

"Lil' Kim" prepares to spend the next 12 months becoming intimately familiar with her new cellmate, "Not-Even-Remotely Lil' Kim".

Ground Control To Google Earth.

Google Earth is a heck of a thing, isn't it? If you're scratching your head like there's a wood tick buried in your scalp, take 5 minutes out to download the application and do amazinglish things such as:

- "Fly from space to your neighborhood. Type in an address and zoom right in." Think of the potential for peeping here. In another 5 years you'll be able to see right into someone's bedroom and see them waving back at you. Albeit handcuffed to a bedpost.
- "Search for schools, parks, restaurants, and hotels. Get driving directions." Sexual predators will not only be able to cruise high school playgrounds from the comfort of their own DNA splattered PCs, but can then figure out the straightest line between their dilapidated hovel and your loved ones.
- "Tilt and rotate the view to see 3D terrain and buildings." Luckily, if your underage neighbor slams down one of her blinds on you in disgust, you'll be able to sneak around to alternate windows with just a few simple clicks.
- "Save and share your searches and favorites. Even add your own annotations." Cheerleader Tryouts. JV wrestling practice. That girl who works at Dairy Queen's bathroom window. The possibilities are only as limited as your perversions.

I am of course kidding, people. Because there's no substitute for a sturdy ladder and a pair of Nikon binoculars. But back to the original purpose of this article - I found a great 'hack' site that will save you a ton of time and lead you straight to many current and historically interesting Google Earth images. Current ones include the London Blast locations, The Great Wall of China, the Tour de France route, crop circles, Dick Cheney's house, etc. I think googleearthhacks.com is poised to become a very popular and fun site, so have yourself a wee lookie looksee.

Then take your protein pills and put your helmets on.

You Might Be Canadian If...

- You're not offended by the term "HOMO MILK".
- You understand the phrase "Could you pass me a serviette, I just dropped my poutine, on the chesterfield."
- You eat chocolate bars, not candy bars.
- You drink pop, not soda.
- You know that a Mickey and 2-4's mean, "party at the camp, eh!!!"
- You know that a pike is a type of fish, not part of a highway.
- You drive on a highway, not a freeway.
- You have Canadian Tire money in your kitchen drawers.
- You design your Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.
- You know that the last letter of the alphabet is pronounced "Zed".
- Your newspaper covers news on 2 pages, but requires 6 pages for hockey.
- You know that when it's 25 degrees outside, it's a warm day.
- You know how to pronounce and spell "Saskatchewan".
- You perk up when you hear the theme song from 'Hockey Night in Canada'.
- You are in grade 12, not the 12th grade.
- Your beer case handles Are big enough To fit your mittens.
- Every murder is reported.
- You froze your tongue to something metal and survived to tell about it.

Wilderness Withdrawl Symptoms.

This time last week I was ripping around the Big Rideau on a jetski with one of my best friends - chasing boats so we could jump off their wakes. I still have a bad case of 'watercraft-back' but it was the most fun I've had in ages. Today, I'm back cleaning my apartment, doing laundry, getting a head start on the work week via some pre-emptive client emails and generally pining for the Canadian countryside.

This September, I'll have lived in the North End for 6 years. I love it here, and I don't think I'd do as well in any other neighborhood, but I think the charm of city-living is wearing thin. There are few elements of my job that I couldn't do on a wireless connection from the end of the dock at my family's house in Portland, Ontario. But I'm required to live in one of only about 5 North American cities where I can do what I do - and they all involve paying small fortunes to live in smaller shoeboxes. I feel like a veal, and I want to appeal.

If I won the lottery, I'd buy an island or every house in my parent's secluded summer neighborhood. Then I'd move all of my closest friends in and we'd start a commune of some sort. Maybe commune is a bad word - It conjures up images of Waco, Jonestown and Heaven's Gate. I'm not suggesting anything crazy like a secret settlement that worships me as a prophet. And besides, everyone knows that cyanide is ingested a lot quicker when mixed into Pabst Blue Ribbon as opposed to purple KoolAid. It's the carbonation, you see. You know, maybe this could work. I'm off to get a $2 scratch ticket. Update: I won $10. Baby steps.

Goonies Never Say Die.

Are you familiar with The Goonies subculture? Well are you? I thought I was, but then did a little surfing and discovered that the cult following that this silly little film has produced over the last 19 years is nothing short of staggering. There is a Goonies sequel in the works. The city of Astoria, Washington, where the entire film was shot, has markers on many of the main locations as fans come from all over the world to visit. There are even little conventions from time to time. The Goonies' cult following is alive and well, and I'd be frightened if I didn't love the movie so much myself. I saw it twice in the theatre in 1985, had the Commodore 64 game, and had this poster on my bedroom wall.











I feel comfortable admitting all of this, because the webmasters of thegoonies.org make me look like James frigging Dean on the comparative nerdery scale. They get full credit though - the site is well designed, engaging and their forum is obviously a haven for Goonies fans around the world. And check out this cool but obsessive film they made about their own trip to Astoria. One of the guys edited himself into the movie in a few spots. I briefly felt sorry for him, but then remembered I was inside my glass house writing about the Goonies on a Saturday night - and decided not to throw any stones.

Would a Goonies sequel be a complete trainwreck? It's got all the characteristics. But Richard Donner has made many great flicks over the years, and I think there's at least a snowball's chance it'd be decent. Unfortunately neither John Matuzak (Sloth), or Anne Ramsey (Mamma Fratelli) made it out of the eighties alive. But I have great idea - Donner could help get the sequel green-lit if he got one actor to play both parts. They'd save a bundle. I have the perfect candidate in mind. Dick - for heaven's sake - call me.

Taking One For The Meme.

I went out on the razz last night for the first time in a while, and am feeling a little brain dead today. I wanted to write something, but needed inspiration. After a quick search I found a decent meme to fill out. Brace yourselves and feel free to play along in the comments.

3 snacks I enjoy...
1. Salt & vinegar potato chips.
2. Anything with feta on it. And I do mean anything.
3. A really good chicken pot pie. I consider it a snack as they rarely fill me up completely. I dump vinegar all over the top of the pastry and then crust it with salt and pepper. Tasty, buddies.

3 songs I know all the words to...
1. There Goes The Fear - The Doves
2. The Pixies' entire catalog.
3. I watched Morrissey's recent set at Glastonbury this morning, and he did an old Smiths song I love called The Headmaster Ritual. I knew every single word - and there are a lot of them. Hadn't heard it in a few years and surprised myself. I once wrote all the words to this song on my desk in Mr. Sarnevitz's match class (circa 1990) and had to come back after school and clean the entire classroom.

3 locations I would love to run away to...
1. Greece. There's feta there. Lots of it.
2. My parent's new house in Ontario. This location in particular is one of my favorite places on earth.
3. Rachel Weisz's lap.

3 recently seen movies I like...
1. Batman Begins - Apparently Bale didn't really commit career suicide by starring in American Psycho afterall. But I don't know if being typecast as a giant bat is a great deal better.
2. War of the Worlds
3. Sin City - I will be racing, not walking, out to get this DVD when it comes out. What a brilliant film. See it.

Friday's Quizzlet: In Union With Jack.

There will be no Quizzlet this week, out of respect and condolence for the citizens of London, England. My thoughts and prayers are with you during this very trying time. Please pray for me so that I don't have a stressful weekend thinking of the London terrorist attacks, even though I am 3 thousand miles away in Boston. Or accidentally walk past a barber shop and hear an Omarion record.

MJ Had The Moonwalk. Omarion Has The Backpedal.

And I thought I was narcissistic. Flash-in-the-pan R&B singer/actor/dancer Omarion was still in London after Live 8 during the bombings yesterday, so he did what any sensitive man-of-the-people would do - he asked his fans to pray for him. He wasn't in any danger or even the vicinity of any of the blasts, nor did he mention any of the dead in his statement to his fans. I can't really do this clown justice so please just read it for yourself. I have Star Wars figures that are 5 years older than this self-absorbed little breakdancing shite:













"Omarion was in London during the tragic bombings that struck this morning," a statement by the singer's publicist said. Making no mention of the fatalities or casualties of the blasts, the singer's statement concluded, "He would like his fans to pray that he has a safe trip and a safe return home. He appreciates your support."

Today, in fairly typical big-mouthed egotistical "star" fashion, his web-site is engaged in a damage control scramble featuring the title "Omarion Story On Reuters A Hoax". Now I ask you, what do you think is more likely? The fact that this priviliged clown opened his fat mouth without thinking, or that Reuters is involved in an elaborate scheme to make him look like more of a simpleton than he manages all by himself? When will the man stop keeping Omarion down, yo?

Stay tuned for his next starring Hollywood role in "London Got Served".

RSS - Really Simple Silliness.

A fan of Pye In The Face asked me tonight if I was considering adding an RSS feed. If you have no idea what that is, please have a look here for some quick learnin' - as they are about to change civilization as we know it. I told him I'd actually already added Really Simple Syndication, and that it was available at the far right of the top menu. You can also click here for the same effect.

Now - what in the heck is it, and how does it relate to you? Simply put, it's a way of tailoring information from your favorite news outlets, blogs, whatever - so it will all appear in one place. This location may be a feed reader program, a web browser, your own website and the list goes on. You can add them to personal portals like My Yahoo and even have them pumped stright into your Outlook daily overview. Vesatility and convenience the likes of which we haven't seen since the Butter Speed Stick.

London Is Burning.

"After the initial shock of stumbling over the truth, what will Britain do? Go back to the Bob Geldof agenda or avenge her dead?"

I checked Al-Jazeera West (CNN) before I left for work this morning and already knew what had happened in the Big Smoke by the time I'd stumbled upon the Park Street T stop evacuation. I should start carrying my camera with me during my walks to work - I come across crazy scenes almost every day during my pedestrian travels. And by 'crazy scenes' I of course mean VPLs.

On Tremont Street people were spilling out of the two kiosks and being shepherded onto waiting buses by frantic T employees in bright orange vests. Some displaced commuters headed straight for the Commons instead - unsure of what was going on and visibly confused. State police and city cops were everywhere, and for a moment I thought "Oh no, the Red Line has been hit with a bomb too. Did I remember to turn the lightswitch off and on exactly 37 times before I left the apartment?" The only thing scarier than Al Qaeda is an OCD.

In case you spent the first half of today with your head in the laundry sink, the non-existent terrorist threat didn't blow up three Underground tube stops and a double-decker bus or kill over 50 people during rush hour in downton London, England. That was some other guy. But regardless, it happened - and if you're one of my Londoner friends, email a brutha so I know you're safe. The official death toll is currently hovering at 37 - but that'll undoubtedly shoot up quite a bit. The Qaedlings obviously chose today carefully - with Blair, Bush and Putin in Scotland for the G8, and the 2012 Olympic bid news announced only yesterday. Why rain on a parade when you can blow it to kingdom frig?

"At dusk, hundreds of thousands of Londoners began a long walk home, with the underground network that carries 3 million passengers a day closed at least until Friday. Thomas Carr, a 63-year-old electrician who faced a two-hour walk home, said he would keep using the underground. "It won't put me off using the Tube," he said. "You can't let them beat you."

I wish only the best for the people of London, and the penultimate worst for the animals responsible. Regardless of where you stand on the politics, today was a sad reminder that we're nowhere near out of the dune yet.

Spare Me Your Crocodile Beers.

When I was a youth, beer acquisition was always at the forefront of my mind. Who has a fake ID, whose older brother is home from college, will Dad notice a few Coors Extra Darks missing, etc. But with the exception of the usual teen-stupidity-induced boozy backwoods car ride, or alcohol-fueled altercation, I was never willing to risk life and limb for a lager. In some parts of the world, however, the value of human life takes a definite backseat to the bitter.

"Alcohol has been banned in two small Australian Aboriginal communities to stop young people from a nearby alcohol-free township from risking their lives by swimming a crocodile-infested river to get a drink."

You've got to admire their drunken spunk. And I'm no authority on the Australian Outback as I personally never got further inland than the Blue Mountains. Maybe it's miserable. Maybe a crate of Victoria Bitter is worth a wooden leg. Maybe the poor Aborigines in that town have a busted TV set that playes nothing but Neighbors, Kylie Minogue Videos and the new INXS reality show. Go nuts, guys.

Monday's (Late) Quotelet: The 3-Way They Didn't Record.

Courtroom artists let Karla Homolka's much conjectured new identity out of the bag Monday. Apparently vengeful Quebecers should be on the lookout for the lovechild of Amanda Beard, Lisa Kudrow and Sebastian Bach.

Pye In The Press.

The Boston Globe mentioned me in an article on Sunday having to do with people who'd been fired as a result of something they'd written in their blog. Now while this has never happened to me - it certainly fricking should have by now and is as inevitable as a solar eclipse. I was originally really excited about participating in the interviews for the piece, but I now see that they didn't link to me directly, and didn't mention the URL properly either. The author was very nice though and I suppose I may get a random traffic trickle from people who see fit to Google me. That or "sad bastard with severely warped priorities and a pathetic measure of acheivement". But at least I wasn't bumped by a woman with a purple mohawk. Oh, wait - uncanny.

Don't Drink And Choke Rottweilers.

"I grab a dog. I choke him and I kick the shit out of him. All day long got my foot up a dog's ass. Just bang, bang, bang up his ass. That's my pleasure." - Mr. Jones

The 16 hours in the car were well worth the three full days up in Ontario. Janet, Jim and I arrived at 3:30 Friday morning after driving up post-work because we wanted to be on hand for Canada Day. Many of my American friends have asked me recently what the signifigance of Canada Day (July 1st) is. Glad you asked - It's similar to Independence Day, only instead of being beaten back to Blighty by the minutemen after the invention of the long-range bored rifle - the Brits just sort of got bored and left Canada quietly.

During our time at the new Pye compound we hung drywall, landscaped, fashioned enormous illuminated maple leaves onto boats, prepared a huge deep-fryed Mexican feast for three sets of neighbors, got lost on the lake for 5 hours in the dark, caught sick jetski air, floated amongst fireworks and hung huge portraits off of ladders balanced on stairs. That we all returned with little more than a few mosquito nibbles to show for our chicanery is truly miraculous.



I don't quite remember at which point choking a 1/2 wolf, 1/2 Rottweiler seemed like a clever fricking passtime - but luckily Koba had watched us rip through several bottles of wine at dinner and didn't take it too personally. But then again, he also chased Spud up a tree twice and was already in the doghouse. He didn't need to add mauling moi to the manifest. I can go on and on - and yet might - about our glorious weekend up North. But a picture really is worth a thousand words, so I'll leave you with this massive new holiday gallery for now. Happy 4th you Yankee buggers.

Friday's Quizzlet: Nerdalistically Impaired And Loving It.

Sorry this is late, kids. I'm in the Canadian wilderness on a 56K dial-up with a dodgy cellphone signal to boot - and I'm loving it more than if I'd just watched Justin Timberlake choke on an errant McMuffin. Being 'connected' on vacation defeats the purpose. So I'm going to wrap this up quickly so I can get back to the real motivation behind any well-deserved holiday - helping my father drywall the basement. Besides, a mink will probably break wind and interrupt this connection - so let's just get on with it.

Appetizer: Where do you plan to go on vacation this year?
I'm already here, baby. My parent's new digs in Portland, Ontario Canada. I'm up here with my sister and my buddy Jim, and we're having a Flinstone-gay old time. Tonight is the boat jamboree where all the neighbors meet in a nearby cove, hook up their brightly-decorated bateaus and then drink their faces off like upper-middle class pirates. My father has fashioned a huge maple leaf out of Christmas lights and a corrogated steel pipe and attached it to the front of our vessel, "The Filthy Whooore". Gaudy, gaudy patriotism. Brings a tear to the eye and a verp to the throat.

Soup: What color is your bedroom? What would you change?
It's the multiple colors of many frayed movie and concert posters. I've been in the same apartment for the last 6 years, and DeNiro's face just doesn't hold the same decorative charm that it did when I was 25. I'm days away from ripping them all down and bringing my bedroom kicking and screaming into the fact I'm now in my thirties, and that the fastest way to woman's heart is not actually through a fraternity house basement.

Salad: Do you have a bumper sticker on your vehicle? What does it say?
I covered the loathesome stickery topic only recently, and will definitely defer. Deferring.... now.

Main Course: What's the worst pain you've ever been in?
I broke my leg whilst playing basketball at a keg party in 1992 and then had to have my bones reattached via a metal plate and 5 pins. So I didn't really have to think about this one too long. It's a funny story which I'll get around to telling properly someday. Must press on, as I've just spotted a gassy mink through the bay window.

Dessert: Who is your favorite celebrity and why?
Dean Martin. His singing voice was matched only by his acting ability and incredible sense of humor. Unbeknownst to most, he wasn't actually a booze-bag - his drunken persona was a big part of his charm and he milked it for all it was worth. When Frank and Sammy were howling at the moon, Dean had usually already been in bed for hours. Anyhew, back to the labor - Happy 4th of July, everyone, if I don't get a chance to check in again. P.S. - R.I.P. Luther.